Corazon Olediana-Estojero was an activist during the Marcos regime and a wife of a disappeared. She now works for FIND and is a staunch advocate of human rights. She has three children.
I was born in San Isidro, Leyte province — a remote town in the Visayas — as the eighth (8TH) child in a brood of 12. My father was a farmer while my mother was a plain housewife. I always wanted to be a teacher, but our family was too poor and I had great difficulties finishing my education.
In 1966, I went to Manila and enrolled in a two-year vocational course. A working student, I stayed in a very small room in Bangkal, Makati.
In 1971, I was recruited by my province-mates into the Malayang Kilusan ng Bagong Kababaihan (MAKIBAKA1 / Free Association of New Women) — a militant women’s organization which was quite novel in the country at that time. I was part of its first batch.
When Marcos imposed Martial Law in 1972, I had to lie-low and returned to Leyte. It was there that I decided to marry my first husband in 1973, whom I had previously met in Manila. Marlene, my daughter, was born the following year. Shortly after, in 1974, my first husband and I separated.
After our separation, I decided to resume my activist work; so much so that I got involved as part of the support group during the La Tondeña strike of 1975. After that, we assisted in the anti-demolition campaign in Pinagbarilan, Pasay City. I was so absorbed in my political involvement that I became a full-time organizer for the anti-dictatorship movement in the late 1970s, particularly during the elections for the Interim Batasang Pambansa2 (IBP) in 1978.
Then on 21 September 1980, I again uttered the words “I do” at the Ang Verbo ng Diyos (The Voice of God) Parish Church. The marriage was unplanned. On the contrary, it was more of a product of an unexpected circumstance.
On 30 July 1980, less than two months prior to our marriage, my then second fiancé, Edgardo Aguirre Estojero, along with three others, was arrested by a composite team of police and military officers. They had just conducted a lighting mobilization inside the Baclaran Church when they were apprehended.
They were brought immediately to the nearest police station which is now a Jolibee fast-food outlet and were slapped with charges for violation of Presidential Decree 33 or “illegal possession of leaflets” which carried a penalty of 6 months to one year imprisonment. I was part of the lightning mobilization but thanks to a number of sympathetic vendors, I was able to hide from the Marcos’ state-funded henchmen.
After two hours, he was brought to Camp Crame. When I got to Crame, the police told me that he and his colleagues had already been brought to Camp Panopio. I spent the whole day in the Camp just trying to hear news about my fiancé.
Since I was then working with the Task Force Detainees of the Philippines (TFDP), I sought its advice and also asked assistance from former Senator Jose “Pepe” Diokno and his fellow human rights lawyers in FLAG3. They assigned Atty. Fulgencio Factoran, who later on became a Cabinet Secretary in the Aquino administration, to follow-up on our case.
After four (4) days, we were able to locate Edgar (my husband’s nickname) in Camp Bagong Diwa. He said that during the four days that he was incommunicado, he suffered beatings and other forms of torture from the police.
In order to hasten his release, I decided to marry him. I really had no thoughts of marrying at that time, given the unpleasant experience I had during my previous marriage. But I thought that I had to do something to help him get out of prison and, furthermore, I really felt his deep love for me. So we were married on 21 September 1980, with the bishop’s brother as the officiating priest.
Thankfully, Ed was released on 30 November 1980 — exactly four months after his arrest. After getting out of prison, he immediately resumed his organizing work for the Association of Labor Organizations (ADLO).
Being a diligent activist, he was able to organize various unions in 30 different factories located in what the anti-dictatorship movement dubbed as South Area 1, namely: Makati, Pasay City and Bicutan in Muntinlupa. He also served as Education Officer for San Roque Labor Center, a local labor-serving institution in Metro Manila. As for me, I was assigned to handle financial resources of the trade union movement.
Both of us were deeply involved in the anti-dictatorship struggle so that our family life and political activism were highly intertwined. No matter how we look at it, distinguishing between the two was extremely difficult.
Nonetheless, we were still a very happy couple that in 1983, I gave birth to Edson — my first child with Edgar.
However, after giving birth to my third child Ezekiel in 1986, I took a leave from political and union work. To somehow augment my husband’s meager income, I became a fruit vendor in Baclaran. Our family life was going along quite well, though Edgar seldom stayed in our house due to his continuing involvement in union work. That was also the height of his involvement in the struggle of the urban poor community in Pinagbarilan, Pasay City, which, at that time, was being threatened with eviction.
Then, there was an unexpected turn of events. On 14 November 1987, my husband disappeared.
Perhaps it was mere coincidence, but on the night before that, he came home and slept in our house. Because of the tense political environment and the tortuous workload, he seldom went home and instead spent the night usually in the union office or in the quarters of his fellow workers.
Then at 5:00 am, we heard a knock at the door. When I opened the door, it was my husband’s comrade, who later turned out to be a brother of a police officer and a possible informer. He had a chat with my husband just outside the door. After an hour, my husband went back into the house and changed his clothes. He told me that he would just buy the morning papers. But when Edson asked him why he was about to leave, he told him that he would just buy him a flashlight and a loaf of bread. When he left, he was immediately accosted by our early morning visitor. That was the last time we saw him. He was 26; I was 30 years old.
According to witnesses whom I was able to talk to, when he left that morning, he was picked up by a black Volkswagen Beetle with no plate number.
When Edgar disappeared, I was so grief-stricken that I was not able to cry for three months. I thought I was made of stone. I just steeled my nerves for the sake of our children, for they were all very small back then. Marlene was just in first year high school; Edson was four (4) years old; while Ezekiel was just a year old.
Edson’s reaction was the worst. He was in shock for several days, spending the whole day outside the window waiting for his father. After five (5) days and no word came from my husband, I decided to buy Edson the flashlight his father promised him and prepared his father’s favorite snack, boiled corn.
Because I was then taking care of Ezekiel, I was not able to join the search for Edgar. Instead, I allowed TFDP and our family members to do it for us.
When my husband disappeared, our financial condition really suffered. In fact, we bought nothing for our Christmas meal that year. Suddenly deprived of our breadwinner, I began selling bananaque (sweetened banana) to offset our financial constraints. I also taught my children to be self-reliant.
Marlene was forced to quit school for two months despite the fact that she was a scholar at Saint Joseph College. A year later, she transferred to Blessed Elena Academy. I also found it very difficult to explain what happened to our children, especially to Edson. I just told them that their father was abducted by the military.
I drew my strength from the people of the Families of Victims of Involuntary Disappearance (FIND) which I joined on 18 November 1987. They gave me and my children an opportunity to undergo rehabilitation. I was so inspired by the camaraderie that I did voluntary work for the organization in 1994-1995, until I was eventually hired as a regular staff. In fact, I could say that if not for the other kasama (comrades), I would have given up a long time ago.
I am also grateful that I was able to attend the First Meeting of Asian Families of Victims of Enforced or Involuntary Disappearances held in Jakarta, Indonesia in December 2004. I believe that the experience was therapeutic for me, since I was able to share my experiences from people from other countries and hear their stories in turn. I also realized that the pain the victims feel could never be measured by the time that elapsed since its occurrence, for the same degree of trauma is almost universally felt.
I can only hope that the next generation will be spared from this political nightmare that I and my co-Filipinos experienced not so long ago.
Footnotes
1 Makibaka, in Tagalog, also stands for struggle. (Editor’s note)
2 National Legislature.
3 FLAG stands for Free Legal Assistance Group, a lawyers’ association that offers services to victims of human rights violations.
